


transcendental youth

by ninata



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: M/M, endgame spoilers, just walking home together., not much of anything really, pre-game, referenced sexual themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: Learn some secrets, never tell. Stay sick, don't get well. (endgame spoilers/read beginning notes for warnings and real summary)





	transcendental youth

**Author's Note:**

> i don't wanna write a fancy summary for this so i'm just gonna tell you what's up. it's just my good ol' pregame bullshit, ouma walking home from a convenience store with saihara and musing about things, some tender holding but not much else. just me establishing my headcanons as usual. the same ol' same ol'.  
> warnings for: underage smoking, suicide pacts, self harm, referenced child abuse, bad brain, a few imagined violent acts/events but nothing actually happens, reference to stillborns, mocking internalized homophobia, cruel irony, passing mention of pedophilia (not part of anyone's backstory, just abt how society's shit) and i think that's about all.

On a cool, October sunday, the sun dyes the sky a deep orange. Red creeps in from the horizon, the sun a big yellow spot in the center of the heavens. Like it's God himself, staring down on the city, watching the salarymen chasing after high school girls, the middle schoolers sneaking into the adult sections of video stores.

Kokichi takes a long drag on his cigarette. Squatting in an alleyway, he can't say he's better than any of them. That he holds any superiority over the perverts, over the degenerates that call Tokyo home. People would say he's one of them, after all. His parents sure would, if he could even express to them who he was. He's nothing more than scum. May as well be the grime caked on the pavement.

He's so lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice he's not alone anymore until something cold touches his head. He flinches, dodging, dropping his cigarette.

"S-Sorry…" Saihara looks sheepish, holding a canned coffee and a bottle of iced tea in his hands. A plastic bag hangs off of his wrist. Kokichi looks down at his cigarette, then up at Saihara's face.

"I said you didn't have to buy me anything…"

"I know." Saihara holds out the tea. "But I figured you may be thirsty, so…"

Kokichi stares at the tea for a moment or two before taking it uneasily. "...I-I'll pay you back." He mumbles. Probably not with money. He barely ever has any, after all. The cap to the bottle is unscrewed, and he takes a sip of it gratefully.

He stands up.

"Are you done smoking?" Saihara asks, then knocks back his coffee. Kokichi watches his adam's apple bob, pale skin almost gold in the warm, fading light. Shining like something valuable. He thinks of wrapping his hands around it, squeezing until Saihara's coughing, drooling, writhing like a fly with its wings torn off. "...Ouma-kun?"

He snaps back to reality, feeling heat rise in his face. "Um...s-sorry. Yeah, I'm done. Do you want to head back, then?"

"Yeah." Saihara takes a step towards turning, his body tilting to face the sun. Kokichi envies that, envies how readily he can walk towards it. How he can accept the sun's light without hesitation. Maybe Saihara and the sun are alike, in a way.

They begin walking.

A car speeds past as they walk back out to the sidewalk. For one moment, Kokichi thinks of it running the both of them over, ploughing them into the cement. As it drives by, he's already gone through his mental preparations for death, and finds himself disappointed yet again. He sighs, fiddling with his bottle. He takes another sip.

The walk back to Saihara's apartment from Family Mart is quiet, even with their meaningless small talk. As they turn from the main road towards the residential area, the people walking around peeter to a trickle. Soon enough, they're the only ones walking down the street, the red sky gradually fading to a purple. The light is going quick, and Kokichi counts the numbers on each building they pass. The shrubbery in front of each one is almost identical, the same clean square bushes. White stone fencing. Saihara finishes his coffee and carefully puts it in a recycling can by a vending machine on a street corner.

Kokichi glances at Saihara's hands.

With the coffee gone, one of them's open. They  _ are _ alone out here, after all...surely nobody's nosy enough to be looking too closely at them from inside any houses. One of Saihara's hands would fit easily in Kokichi's. The idea's inviting, his hand hanging there, beckoning.

He watches Saihara's face as he takes it, watches as surprise pricks at the corners of his lips and his face draws itself back. The hand is just a soft as it always is.

"O-Ouma-kun…"

"Sorry...i-is this no good?"

"No! No, it's fine."

Saihara squeezes Kokichi's fingers.

The gesture is simple. They've held hands before, and even done it outside, like this, walking back somewhere where they couldn't be seen. But even now, Kokichi's nervous. Nervous Saihara's hand will shy from his, that Saihara's head will turn away and he'll tilt the brim of his cap down. Maybe he's paranoid. Maybe he's afraid of too much.

He swallows down the erratic beat of his heart. His eyes stay on the ground, but he finds himself walking a bit closer to Saihara. Their elbows brush every now and again, and Kokichi is painfully aware of how his heart pumps in reply.

It’s a curious thing, how even after all he’s been through, his heart has the nerve to hurt like this. How his face can’t hold back a smile, how warmth starts in his chest and floods his limbs. How some kind of stupid hope rears its head whenever he’s close to Saihara, like his life isn’t forfeit and he has any chance of living past twenty.

They reach the apartment building Saihara lives in, and Kokichi’s forced to let him go. Saihara fumbles for his keys, the slightest curve in his lips. Kokichi thinks of kissing him, but even the thought is too embarrassing for him to be able to follow through, despite the fact they'd gone far past that already. Maybe he'll work up the courage later.

Saihara lives alone. His parents, wealthy, are apparently of the mind it’ll teach him some valuable lesson rather than make him lonely and miserable. Kokichi steps out of his shoes, fiddling again with the bottle’s cap.

Saihara takes off his jacket, setting his plastic bag on the kitchen table. Kokichi sets his bottle next to it. If Kokichi doesn’t act now, Saihara will start cooking, becoming untouchable for however long it takes. He moves quickly, taking the steps forward and wrapping his arms around Saihara from behind.

“Huh—?”

Kokichi takes a deep, deep breath. Everything here smells nice, everything here is welcoming and kind. If Kokichi could, he would stay here forever. He’s a horrible cook compared to Saihara, and he’s clumsy, and he’s burdensome and obnoxious, but he...he still…

He shuts his eyes.

He would stay forever. He would stay by Saihara’s side forever. He'd help him with chores, he'd brush his teeth next to him at the sink, he'd go shopping with him for groceries, get a part time job to pay a share of rent. He would spend an eternity with him, but even that’s wishful thinking. The rest of his life is too miserable for him to want to stay alive. His parents, school, classmates, even his inevitable career...it’s too much for him to bear. To even dream that any of that could go away or improve is ludicrous.

But sometimes, he wishes. He wishes he could stay alive, just for him. He would if the world wouldn't make him pay for it.

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara’s tone is soft. Kokichi lets him go, fiddling with his hands.

“S-Sorry. You can start cooking now.”

Saihara turns around and pulls him into his arms. Kokichi’s heart wrenches in reply, his whole body responding in panic. It’s too much, hurts too much, makes him all too happy. He reciprocates without a second thought, burying his face in Saihara’s chest.

Even if he's bland and unnoticeable, even if he leaves no lasting impression. Even if his life is meaningless, and he would've been better off stillborn, at least Saihara makes him feel like those things aren't the truth. Even if it's a lie, it's a happy lie. Here, he feels like there's hope in the world, that the sun can shine, and the sunsets are beautiful and the nights are warm. With Saihara, there are so many possibilities, so many things to do and places they can go. They can take the train all the way to the end of the line, they can get lost and have their phones die on them. They can go to weird stores and look at weird figurines of Buddha, they can go to purikura booths and take pictures together. Kokichi never knew the world could be such a bright, lively place. Sometimes he doesn't even think about dying when the train rocks too hard or screeches too loudly.

Saihara makes everything possible, even a death he can look forward to. A promise written in blood. Saihara makes his heart feel so light, so heavy, so wonderful, so miserable. Makes him sit in bed and cry, makes him sick, makes him tear himself apart and wish he could burn the world to the ground so it was just them two. Makes him wish he was stronger. Makes him wish he could hurt people, too.

They're both horrible people. They're horrible, terrible people, unwanted by their families, by society. Two idiot teenagers doing things they shouldn't, cutting their wrists open and pressing them together, playing like they're in love. Kokichi wants it to be love, but is there any possibility he could feel something that pure? The two of them, the plans they've made to die, how they watch Danganronpa together and end up touching each other to the sounds of death, they're vile, aren't they?

That's all he can think, holding Saihara tightly. No matter how wonderful this feeling is, no matter how happy it makes him, it's dirty and wrong.  _ They're  _ dirty and wrong.

Maybe he can’t live. Maybe he does have to die. Maybe they both should.

They're not normal. They're not deserving of love. They're not meant for happiness, for longevity, for anything domestic and kind.

They've been destined to die since the beginning of time. Kokichi's known it since he met him.

But if they die together, then Kokichi's life may not be so meaningless after all.

**Author's Note:**

> whew. i keep getting inspired and not doing homework like i should be. uhhhh yeah uhhhhh, this is way less purple than the other ones i think and a bit more coherent and like my usual style, i am literally sitting in class as i write this waiting for my professor to come in, i really need to put up an open-ended/chaptered work of my poems and stuff i've been doing thats just not-so-cleverly disguised fanworks.  
> once again, go back and read my old works if you like this one, it's all the same thinking but different scenarios, i love nothing more than force-feeding people my opinions and headcanons. (joke) but really i do uh. appreciate...all the positive feedback...more than i can say...and i genuinely mean that, i'm bad at accepting compliments. thank yall. betad gently by trenchgun


End file.
